Since last summer, I have been writing in a journal each and every morning. I have Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, to thank. She encourages writing what she has dubbed morning pages as a tool to help tap into creativity. Guess what? It works!
I’d like to share an excerpt from what I wrote in my treasured journal this morning. The writing is stream of consciousness and is unedited, so please forgive.
I just can’t get over how much I love having a pen in my hand. Having a leather-bound journal comforts me in a way that I just cannot explain or understand. Writing in it is like being at home, safe and secure. Just holding it makes me feel safe. It’s such a strange thing. I’ve always, since I was in middle school, at least, loved the idea of keeping a diary, having always been drawn to pencils, pens, markers, stationary, notebooks and such. But, when I was younger, I never thought that I could write down anything ‘good enough’, profound enough, worth reading. That was stupid on my part. I am so very happy that I finally, at the ripe old age of 54, have realized that it’s not what is written that’s important, but rather, that it is written. I would love to be able to look back now and read what my 14 year-old self would have been thinking, my 24, 34 & 44 year-old self. The transformation would have been amazing. The highs, the lows, the mundane. I would have loved reading every last bit of it. Oh well, at least I am writing now. Better late than never, as Mom always said. I will look at this particular journal when I am 64 and think, “Yes, yes! You finally did it. I am so proud of you!”
I chose to share this in hopes of encouraging all of you to start journaling, if you haven’t already started. It is truly the best. Yes, you will feel extremely conscious of every word written in the beginning. But, be patient. In no time at all you will come to understand, as I do now, that it’s the writing process itself that’s important, even if you don’t fancy yourself a writer. Simply get your thoughts down on paper, no matter how mundane they may seem. You wouldn’t believe how often I write about the weather, the coffee I’m drinking and my creaky, stiff, just-out-of-bed bones. Then suddenly, when least expected, something brilliant shows up. The needle in the haystack. And, it is shiny and gold and priceless.
What are you waiting for?